Sorry, Lass
by fallintotoday
Summary: "I've got important things to do. We'll speak another time." One Shot/Flash Fiction written by happy accident. I have no idea why this story evolved the way it did, but I hope you find it enjoyable! :)


**Sorry, Lass**

Karliah promised that he would visit, but he hasn't. Perhaps he hinted at a deeper fear when he told me I was the one to become Guildmaster, and not him, as everyone had come to expect. He said that he simply never had the ambition to take on such a burdensome role, and that the job was best left in my more capable hands. At the time it seemed ordinary, as I had met a fair few people who simply did not possess the need for power or greater purpose. Such a position left little time for more pleasurable things, as I had quickly come to learn. His decision to remain Guild Second seemed to get smarter as the days drew on, when I found myself restrained by smaller and smaller boundaries. But, as the weeks turned to months there was a growing consciousness of the red-head's absence from Nightingale Hall, until there was only concern in my mind and little room left in my head for the more important tasks at hand.

When hours began to crawl by with an unbearable slowness, I found my mood to suffer and Karliah was wise to it. When questioned, I responded miserably and, to my surprise, received a quiet, though revealing response, something which was unusual in the Dunmer.

"I was the same way," she said, her ethereal eyes shimmering at some unspoken thought. "I couldn't stand it when Gallus ignored me."

I looked up thoughtfully from some book I'd been pouring myself over, my attempt to do some work for the Guild. "What?" Between the moments of her first words to me and the last, I'd buried myself in this tome in an attempt to push all of my troubles away. Karliah waited patiently as her revelation sunk into my busy mind, when my jaw set and lips became tense. "You don't know what you're talking about. My relationship with Brynjolf doesn't parallel yours. There is no tenderness there, only concern for a fellow guild member and Nightingale who has shown me the same kindness."

"Is that what you think?" Her head tilted to the side, genuinely disbelieving. The Dunmer excelled at hiding, both physically and mentally. The constant murkiness of her manner always left me wondering exactly how much the elf noticed, but didn't reveal. This small torch she held up for me in the darkness of her mind allowed only a glimpse at its deeper workings, and I hastened to venture further into it.

"What have I ever said or done to contradict that?" My own head cocked to the side, mirroring her.

"If it was only worry on your mind, you would have no issue returning to the Guild. There is embarrassment there, I can see it. I just don't know why it exists."

"And, I don't know why you think it exists." My hand slammed the tanned leather cover of the book closed, my tone growing harsher as my patience grew fragile. This conversation was clearly far from over, and I wasn't keen to clear the fog which shrouded my mind. I didn't know what lingered in its depths, and it felt dangerous to travel there. "I am the keeper of my thoughts, and I think I'd know of the existence of this feeling you claim to observe."

"Perhaps. Or maybe it's lingering in the shadows."

"Perhaps you're just in need of a relationship of your own, so you'll stop meddling in the affairs of mine." Perhaps I'd been a little harsh, as the Dark Elf registered some faint expression on her face. She hid it expertly, as she turned away to briefly hide herself in shadow, then reappearing though merely annoyed by the remark.

"Only the cruelty of a bitter heart." She whispered, "And I pity you for it."

My shoulders slumped against the wooden backing of the chair I sat in. Guilt would be the feeling which spread through me at that moment. "I'm just beginning to wonder if bringing him into the Trinity wasn't the brightest thing to do." I conceded, "He hasn't so much as let his foot into this place since his initiation, and I can't predict his actions should Nocturnal require his service. He didn't seem too happy about the whole thing to begin with, and I wouldn't be surprised if he's forgotten about it all."

Karliah's violet eyes hardened, drifting away into the vast recesses of the cavern. She remained this way for some moments, sifting through those mysterious thoughts and memories, until finally speaking through tightened lips. "I have to agree with you." She said, turning back to me stiffly. "But, I'm sure he's just busy, with most of the guild's business falling on his shoulders instead of the Guildmaster's." Her eyes regained their sparkle from earlier, as the closest thing to humor Karliah knew wandered into her voice.

My guilt turned into sheepishness. "You're right…" I said, my eyes widening in realization. My plagued mind had gradually been shirking off guild duties until I was left with basically nothing. If there was anything Brynjolf would be angry about, it was probably the fact that I had left him Guildmaster, but without the title or benefits. Another part of me believed that Brynjolf wanted it that way to begin with, but still, I had been bound to The Rift to run the Guild, and hadn't even been doing that. I began to wonder what was binding me to the province, as I was starting to see that I wasn't really needed here.

As I thought this, I was surprised to hear his brogue echoing off the cave's walls, and both Karliah and I spun towards the voice. The book on my lap was nearly flung towards the rocky wall opposite me as my body jolted in response to my surprise, but I luckily restrained this reaction as it occurred just as the Nord's fiery hair bobbed into view.

"Good evening, lass." He spoke, and I was unsure which of us he was referring to. "Can I have a word with you in the next room?" My hesitation to acknowledge him was wise, as it was Karliah who seemed to have his business.

"Of course." Came her soft voice, joining him by his side. I stared after her bitterly, growing ever more conscious of her ease of conversation with him, and I began to realize that it was only I who had limited contact with the man since becoming Guildmaster.

"Perhaps I am being petty." I admitted to myself, opening the cover to the book I was reading and casting my eyes down upon its knowledge. What was I feeling? This guilt which appeared out of nowhere, and this unnecessary concern for a man whom functioned perfectly well before I decided to pop into the picture. Was I somehow feeling responsible for tying this man into a life of servitude after death? No, even now I could plainly see Mercer Frey's hand in destroying the guild and tying Brynjolf into it, even after his demise by my hand. Maybe it was the look Brynjolf gave me afterwards, some mixture of concern and pride which urged me to become something he'd continue to be proud of. I began to chew on the corner of my lower lip, my eyes watching as the pair drifted around the corner into the hallway which led to the training room, and Nocturnal's portal. This brief glimpse of him left me feeling both appeased and filled with a sense of dread.

Where, if it even existed, was the moment when Brynjolf stopped calling me lass in an affectionate way? When did it become forced, and not at all a name which belonged to me? Why was there an absent feeling inside me when Brynjolf called Karliah by this very name, but didn't acknowledge me? At what point in time did our dialogue become brief and business, and why were the drawn out conversations still fresh in my mind and always reminding me of the Brynjolf I knew before? I wish I could take back all that had transpired between that final 'lass' until now and revert to the friendship I'd grown comfortable with. Was Karliah right in seeing embarrassment in my reluctance? Was there truly something there I wished not uncovered, something which I diligently spent these long hours burying with more thoughts and fog to hide it?

Why, now, when he returns to the chamber and finally acknowledges me as Guildmaster, do I shrug him off as if I hadn't spent the last ten minutes lamenting over his reservations, but do not remove my own? Is my frustration merely of my own making? Was he having the same thoughts as I? Do I appear displeased with him, and as his Guildmaster he feels the need to distance himself from me? Or is he feeling angry because of my laziness regarding the guild? These thoughts I had, occupied the space in time it required Brynjolf to disappear from Nightingale Hall, and I hadn't spoken a word. I looked blankly at Karliah who had donned some sort of expression which revealed her thoughts, but I was not reading it. I merely remained a still shell of anxiety, and my mind only recorded the events but did not participate in them.

Her tiny feet padded quietly towards me, observing me for a few moments before finally speaking. "You should talk to him." The way she said this sounded more a demand than a suggestion, and I merely nodded my head in slow reply.

"Can I ask you a question?" I asked while stealing a glance at her, before returning my gaze to the book I'd been staring intently at during these past minutes.

"Absolutely." She replied, something close to concern marking her brow.

"Am I deserving of this?"

Karliah hesitated, licking her lip nervously as she braved further. "Of what, Nightingale?"

"All I have. This position, of your friendship, of Brynjolf's…"

"You have fought many battles in your life, more than most. I'd say you deserve all of it and more."

"Then why does Brynjolf not speak to me? Surely not enough has changed to deserve this dreadful silence."

"You were the silent one, darling."

"Was I?" This wasn't more of a question than a comprehension.

Something within my words were powerful, somehow and for some reason I was spurred on by their unspoken guarantee. My leather boots tapped against the stone floor, small echoes following me and building in tandem with my arrival at the hidden door and the surface. I burst out into the blackened wilderness, only the moonlight capturing my form as I burst through the tree line.

"Brynjolf!" I cried, my shoes noisily crashing over rocks and branches as I scrambled through the forest. "Bryn!" My ears picked up a low grumbling to my left, when I halted and let relief wash over my face. I only saw a pair of yellow eyes watching me not five steps away, some three feet off the ground. "Wolves." I muttered, gritting my teeth and reaching for the set of glass daggers I hang from my waist only to find I'd removed them some hours before but had neglected to replace them.

"Shit!" I said, voice building as I realized that I'd probably die by disembowelment some twenty or so steps away from access to my irretrievable weapons.

"Lass?" Came his voice, as his body separated from the shadows. I watched as he sliced through the fur of the beast, the creature shrieking as it fell to the ground dead. "Are you alright?"

"I came out to find you." I said, weariness taking over my voice as the adrenaline slowed to a stop and left me feeling exhausted. My bleary eyes slowly floated from the dead carcass on the ground to the strong, capable form of my savior and nearly collapsed as my knees knocked together.

"Good graces, lass." He chuckled, placing one calloused hand on my lower back, and the other on my shoulder to steady it. "Took out a Nightingale with the power of a Daedric Prince, but nearly bested by a wolf? You need to work on your consistency."

"I shall, but only with some regularity." My eyes flicked up to his face; hand on my chest, an exasperated laugh escaping my rasping throat. I had run much further than I thought I had. The walls of Riften were just through the trees, past the jutting rocks that I would have tripped over in my haste had I not heard the wolf growl. The sound of his low chuckle startled me out of this observation, and I was taken by the ease of conversation with him despite not more than the passing glance we shared some minutes ago occupying the space of three months.

"Where have you been?" My breath was starting to slow back down to its usual rhythm, and my tone became heavier, my face serious. Brynjolf released me, but it was during an instant where I became unsure whether it was because of my restored composure or my inquisition. The question, at least, seemed to have stirred some hesitation within him, though he looked at me with pure confusion.

His face twisting up, he answered me plainly, "I have wanted to ask that very question of you."

"Huh?" It almost came out of a giggle. We stood staring at each other awkwardly for some time, before an embarrassed Brynjolf scratched the back of his head.

"I guess we've had some sort of misunderstanding, lass." He chuckled.

"Yeah." Was all I could manage to say, and staring at my feet was all I could do, but Brynjolf didn't seem to notice. He was looking towards the city of Riften with furrowed brow and he swallowed; I felt as if I was keeping him from some business. Business that should have been mine.

"Look, I won't keep you long, but don't be afraid to yell at me if you need help with anything."

Brynjolf nodded, and a strained chuckle escaped his throat. "Of course, lass." The warmth in this name disappeared as he said this, and I began to see that our friendship had developed borders. His casual nature with me stopped as soon as, and every time mentioned thereafter, I was Guildmaster, and not his shy recruit who helped him restore the Guild.

He must have seen the strain on my face, even in this darkness, because he placed his warm hand on my hair and said with all the kindness he could muster, "I'm sorry, Lass, I've got important things to do, we'll speak another time."


End file.
